


A Renewed Passion

by dismiss_your_fearsx



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: Desk Sex, F/M, Shameless Smut, Smut is actually an understatement, not spoilery tho, post-s4, this is porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 03:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18241280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dismiss_your_fearsx/pseuds/dismiss_your_fearsx
Summary: 'Now, finally, back home after putting up a pretence of propriety all evening, the air was thick with unresolved tension, a renewed passion.'





	A Renewed Passion

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Do not read on public transport, or in any public setting, unless you want strangers to judge your reading material, in which case, go right ahead, my friend. 
> 
> (P.s. Smut makes me nervous so if you enjoy this please leave a wee comment, thank you <3)

With a blind swipe of his left arm, Dwight sent half of the contents of his desk crashing to the floor. Caroline, too, blindly tapped at the mahogany table and removed any remaining obstructing items as her husband pressed her against the ancient wood, kissing her wildly.   
  
They both knew what was to happen, and God knows Dwight’s study was no stranger to it, but lately, their lovemaking had been lacking, and the nights where it had not, it had been a rather routine affair.   
But not tonight. No, tonight would be different. It was as though they had both known it from the moment they had met in the parlour earlier in the evening, before leaving for the St Piran's Day ball at Tregothnan. Caroline wore a new dress of plain red silk and had paired it with a delicate ruby necklace, which sat neatly in the hollow of her throat. Her hair was styled in an elegant up-do, pearls and jewels were woven amongst her curls. When her red lips had curved into a smile to greet him as he entered the room, he could not remember a time she looked more beautiful.   
  
Caroline, too, bore similar thoughts about her husband as he absently fixed his cuff links. He wore a fashionable, black, woollen tailored coat on top of an embroidered pale blue waistcoat, which matched his eyes to perfection. When Bone had announced to them their carriage was ready they had been so lost in their lustful thoughts that they had forgotten where they were going in the first place.   
  
Now, finally, back home after putting up a pretence of propriety all evening, the air was thick with unresolved tension, a renewed passion.   
  
“I have thought of nothing else all evening,” Dwight admitted with a soft grunt as he hoisted Caroline onto the desk, kissing her hungrily.   
  
Caroline gasped as she felt the cold surface beneath her dress, a stark contrast to the fire that burned within her. “Nor I,” she breathed between a kiss.   
  
She lured him closer, hooking a leg behind his thighs. Knowing what he wanted, she reached forward and slowly, teasingly, plucked at the buttons of his breeches until the barrier of clothing was no more.  
  
Her touch was light, as one may stroke a still-blooming rose petal as opposed to how one may grip a horse's reins, it was not enough. Dwight groaned at the feel of her hands on him, and his hips stuttered forward involuntarily.  
  
Caroline let out a quiet, mischievous giggle. “So eager,” she teased with an arched eyebrow.   
  
Dwight leaned in and roughly kissed her facetious facade away, pinning her down against the desk as he held her waist. “You know what you do to me,” he growled against the column of her neck as he kissed her, her pulse beating wildly beneath his lips. Caroline sighed and tilted her neck to allow him better access. But instead of the familiar warm softness of his lips against her skin, she instead felt a draft as Dwight pulled his head back, a soft smirk on his face. “Let us not pretend that I do not have a similar effect on you, my love,” he challenged with a dark chuckle as he began gathering her silk skirt, the fabric clutched in one hand as the other trailed along her thigh, searching, searching, searching.   
  
“God,” Caroline moaned as she felt his fingers dip inside of her.   
  
Dwight, feeling the evidence of her desire for him, echoed the sentiment. “Kiss me,” he ordered hoarsely, losing himself in the feel of her, the feeling of her hands on him.   
  
A moan escaped Caroline’s lips as she edged forward, feeling his fingers go deeper inside her, as she sought his lips. She brought her free hand up to cup his face; the light graze of his shaven facial hair beneath her palm was just as thrilling as the first time she had touched him all those years ago. She kissed him passionately, determinedly, with a fire that had not been present for some time: before the vast lost they had experienced. But they had survived it, overcame it, together. And now, now, Caroline would not allow Dwight to question her desire for him. Leaning forward and whispering sweet nothings into his ear, she tightened her grip around him and quickened her pace.   
  
Dwight moaned at the action, but Caroline smothered the sound with another deep kiss. Aware that her touch would soon become impossible to resist, Dwight managed to whisper: “Stop.”  
  
Caroline immediately withdrew her hand but hoped that Dwight would not do the same. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded against his ear.   
  
She felt him flash a smile against her jawline as he continued his ministrations with attentive determination. She then whimpered at the loss of his touch but had no time to mourn it as Dwight suddenly kneeled and was kissing along her inner thigh.   
  
“Oh, Dwight,” Caroline panted as she flung her head back, the heel of her hand against the desk the only thing holding her upright, desire coursing through her to the point where his tongue was driving her mad. She wrapped her calf around his back, urging him closer, her hands moving to hold his head as she rocked into him. He held her thighs firmly in his grasp as she squirmed, bucked, writhed, desperate for release.   
  
“Dwight, Dwight, now!” she ordered breathlessly, giving a handful of his hair a sharp tug.   
  
Rising from his knees and holding her red gown firmly in place about her hips, Dwight joined them at last. He immediately opted for a slow pace so as to savour the feel of each other. Soft sighs escaped their lips and into each other’s mouths as they exchanged tender yet urgent kisses. Caroline caught Dwight’s bottom lip between her teeth, and thus his resolve was shattered. He grasped hold of her hips, setting a vastly different pace, the only kind of rough pace that would fulfil the sense of urgency he now felt. The whole world narrowed down to this, his hands on the curves of her hips, their uneven rhythm, their breathy moans filling the air. He felt his climax approaching fast.   
  
Cutting into the almost silent darkness, Caroline keened loudly at the quick, steadfast pace her husband had set. “Faster!” she instructed breathlessly, desperately rocking her hips, her nails digging through his waistcoat into the flesh of his shoulder blades.  
  
Dwight shook his head slightly, not entirely certain of his ability to form words. “Can’t,” he managed. Her grip on him tightened as he maintained the pace, but he could not bring himself to care about the marks it would leave.  
  
Understanding his meaning, Caroline tore one of his hands away from where it sat on her hip and guided it between them. He flashed a devilish grin at her, the only flicker of light besides that of the moon and the dying embers of the fire before he tilted his head forward to kiss her deeply, his thumb swiping determinedly across her nub.  
  
“Yes! Just there,” she crowed, feeling the tightness come upon her under his practised touch.   
  
“ _Oh, Caroline - !_ ”  
  
“ _Oh, God - !_ ”  
  
They cried out in unison as they slumped against each other. It was only when Dwight released the handful of her dress that he had been holding did she spare a thought for the damage the splintered wood may have caused it, but she could not bring herself to care at this precise moment.   
As the two of them held each other, Caroline focused on regaining her breath and began absently playing with her husband’s hair as he continued to pant softly against her shoulder. It was then she took a glance around the room - books, pieces of parchment, quills, vials and small pots of ink abandoned on the floor around them - and with a wry twist of her mouth announced: “I’m afraid we’ve made rather a mess of your study, Dr Enys.”


End file.
